Grey: The Reconnection (Spectrum Series Book 4)

by Allison White

  “Grey…?” I breathe, feeling my stomach twist into impossible knots. I sweep my eyes over the room I’m in—I must be in Grey’s house, in his bed. I’m wearing his freaking jacket. The jacket I got him, to be precise. I smile like a giddy fool as I realize he didn’t just burn it after what happened. I wonder if he still has the gloves…“Not important.” I shake away the silly thought and stand up. Big mistake. I trip on my jeans and fall on my face. “Ouch! Fuck, fuck—ow!” I think I broke something. Either my nose or my spirit, either one wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

  I expect Grey to run in here and help me up because I am a hungover ball of pain, but with that damn music blasting through the house, I doubt he even heard me fall.

  I hobble out of the room and wince in the hallway. My head is throbbing so hard, I think my body is actually vibrating. I lean against the wall and rub my temples for a good two minutes. I run my tongue through my lips and feel a tug at the back of my throat; I’m deathly thirsty. And I feel as though if I don’t get a drip of water soon, I will pass out. I push off the wall and take my time inching out of the hallway.

  I stop in my tracks when I see Grey in the kitchen. His back is to me, but I admire him all the more. Unlike his front, his back is mostly saved from ink, but it still has some that are just jaw-dropping. And his muscles are ripped and a tad larger than the last I saw him shirtless. His jeans from last night are low on his hips, and boy, does his butt look amazing. I tilt my head and feel my mouth become drier with every square inch of his perfectly marred skin I take in.

  Sensing my shameless stare, he looks over his shoulder. He looks surprised for a split second, but then he realizes I’m basically checking him out, and his pink lips slant in a knowing smirk. He reaches over to a stereo on the counter and turns the music down to the point of toleration.

  “Morning, princess,” he says, his voice deep like the Pacific.

  His voice isn’t the only thing in the room similar to the Pacific…I think naughtily.

  Fire embeds itself in my cheeks and neck, and I consciously cross my arms. “Um, w-what happened last night?” I ask.

  He looks almost offended, facing me while raising a thick brow. “You don’t remember what went down last night?” His eyes grow dark, and I flush even hotter when they flicker down at my bare legs. I try to cross them, but there is no use. And it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before. But still…why is he looking at me like that? “Shame.” He shrugs and licks his lips before turning back to the stove. “Looks like I’ll be the only keeper of last night’s events.”

  My jaw drops.

  Does he mean…? But we didn’t…I wouldn’t do that with him. I wouldn’t…I mean…my eyes wander to his butt. Now he’s just showing off. I bite my lip but then feel my subconscious slap me back to reality.

  There’s a possibility you betrayed Noah by having sex with Grey—focus!

  “What do you mean, Grey?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  He whistles, flipping a kind of burned pancake.

  I storm over to him and push his shoulder, making him face me with a nauseating smirk, or is it because I feel like emptying my entire body because of my hangover…? The world may never know. But I do know I will get this stubborn man to tell me what happened last night.

  “Tell me, Grey.” I poke his chest repeatedly.

  He just covers his heart and winces. “Ouch, I can’t live on. You’ve wounded me terribly. Ah! I think I see the light!”

  “Don’t you dare go toward that light, Grey Wyler!” I command and lunge for him.

  He easily scoops me up and places me on the counter, my legs wide open around him.

  I am the Pacific; the Pacific is me.

  “Fine, I’ll stay in the darkness…” He pauses, and I nearly melt into a puddle of bones and mush when he tugs my bottom lip, eyes blacker than ever, peering into me senselessly. “As long as you come with me.”

  Tsunami alert! I repeat, tsunami alert!

  “Wet!” I scream and gasp, clapping my hands over my mouth.

  He raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “What?”

  I open and close my mouth constantly, trying to find words. “I am…I have to pee. That’s it, gotta pee, pee, pee!” Gosh, I sound like a freaking first grader.

  He makes a sound from his chest, like he’s doing everything possible to hold back a laugh, but he’s not quite succeeding. “Sure.” He winks at me like the ass he is, and I am basically on actual fire at this point from embarrassment. The minute he steps back, I jump down and run back into this bedroom.

  “Jesus, Liv. Get it together,” I mumble, sitting on the bed and rubbing my face. He and I were a couple before. I’ve seen him naked and vice versa. We have done…it. Why the hell am I acting like a church girl that’s just seen a man naked for the first time? I need to stop acting like he is affecting me so much. I am not with him anymore; I am with Noah. Sweet, sweet Noah who doesn’t deserve my sexual longing for another man. I need to suck up whatever… feelings I have toward Grey in that way and transfer them to Noah.

  I am so busy coaching myself, I almost don’t hear the vibrations.

  I grab my phone out of my jeans pocket on the floor and answer.

  “Hello?” I rub the side of my face.

  “Livvy, are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m with…” I am hesitant to relay to him that I’m with my ex. “I’m with a friend,” I end up telling him, and I instantly hate myself for lying to him.

  “Jesus Christ, I’ve been calling you all fucking night,” he curses, and I’m taken aback. I’ve never heard him curse before, well, not at me, at least.

  “Sorry,” I say, my voice clipped.

  “Shit,” he curses again and takes a deep breath that sounds ruffled over the phone. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

  “It’s okay.” I clutch the thin sheet beneath me, rubbing the fabric.

  “No, it’s not.” He pauses again. “Are you okay? Did anything happen last night?”

  “No, no—I’m okay,” I reassure him with a small smile.

  “That’s great, now where exactly are you so I can pick you u—”

  “Do you want sugar and milk with your coffee, or just plain black?” Grey bursts through the door, his voice loud and very distinct.

  I widen my eyes, and Noah pauses.

  Crap!

  “Wait, you’re still with Grey?”

  “Still?” He knew Grey practically kidnapped me. “What do you mean still?”

  “I mean, I thought the asshole would have actually dropped you off at a friend’s or something after he took you from the club,” he says, and I mentally scratch my brain.

  What is he talking about? I am so confused.

  “What the hell happened last night where you would be okay with Grey taking me—oh, right!” Images of last night pop up in my head and scroll around like a slideshow. Of him strolling in the club, me screaming in his face, the crying. Him nearly punching Noah but taking me out and that strange look Dean gave me. I shiver thinking of it now. Then I am sucked into the memory of me practically wanting to jump his bones in the car, to him buying me yogurt, me doing shots of sprinkles, all the way to me again, wanting to fuck him—or him to fuck me—when he threw me on his bed.

  Oh my gosh, I was a mess…what was I thinking doing sprinkle shots?

  And, you know, the wanting to have sex with him?

  Yeah, that too…

  I feel like I’ve been thrown in a volcano.

  “Liv, hello? I said what is the address?” Noah barks into the phone.

  I draw my attention back to him and open my mouth, but the phone is snatched from me before I can utter a word.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Grey stares at me while he smiles like the little devil he is and hangs up.

  “What was that for?” I stand up abruptly, feeling woozy. I push past the sudden dizzy spell and lunge for my phone, but he raises it high in the air. “Give me my phone back!”<
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  “No, you’d be wasting your breath on him,” he scoffs like he’s all that.

  “Too late, I already am by speaking to you,” I sass.

  “Touché.” He smirks.

  “Thanks.” I smile, proud of myself.

  “But you’re still not getting it back.” He taps my nose, and I groan. A loud buzzing fills the room, and we both stare up at my phone lighting up. He snaps his eyes to me with a cocky grin. “Someone must be excited to see me,” he drawls, glancing downward.

  I flush like I am laying on the sun and try to cover my eyes. I almost forgot I am practically naked.

  “Give me my phone, please!” I plead.

  He sighs and looks at the screen. “I’ll bring you home. Just don’t call him back or answer him if he calls again.”

  “Why not?” I grab the phone and see it is Charlotte calling me.

  I look up and am surprised to see he is frowning, hands dug in his jeans’ pockets.

  “Just don’t…okay?” He rubs his lower lip, pinching it, and I find myself nodding.

  “Fine…” A small silence lingers between us. But then I remember Charlotte is calling, and I clear my throat. “I’m gonna step outside.”

  I go out on the back patio where there is a small secluded beach and a swing. I sit on the swing and finally hit accept.

  “Hell—”

  “Ella no está contestando su teléfono, me da mi martillo—” (She isn't answering her phone, hand me my hammer—)

  “No need for that, Char,” I speak up quickly.

  “Liv?” She sounds shocked but happy. And then anger settles in, and she rants, “What the hell is wrong with you, girl? Don’t you know how to pick up your god damn phone? I’ve—we’ve—been calling and texting you all damn night and morning.”

  I wince and glance at my notifications: all texts from her and my friends. “I am so sorry. Tell the guys I am extremely sorry. I didn’t mean to worry any of you. I just…I kinda just woke up a few minutes ago, actually.”

  She sighs like she’s trying not to act on her desire and pick up her favorite weapon of choice. “Where are you?”

  “Grey’s,” I tell her hesitantly, scared of her reaction.

  “Why are you at his house?” she screams, then laughs anxiously as she tries to get her breathing under control. “Sorry, please tell me how you ended up at your ex’s house.”

  “I got too drunk last night, so Noah had him take me here. I couldn’t go home because my mother would chew my soul alive, and his mother would definitely tell my mother. I guess the safest place was…here.” I shrug.

  “Wait, Noah let Grey take you to his home for the night?” she asks incredulously, obviously not believing a word I am saying. But I can’t blame her. I’m confused too.

  “Yes.” I nod even though she cannot see me. At least I think Noah let him bring me here, though he did sound surprised to know I’m here…I don’t know, I’m too hungover to figure it out.

  “Well, fuck…” she trails, then asks, “Did you guys do anything, you know…?”

  I gasp and look around nervously, as if Noah will pop up and skeptically watch me answer. “No! Of course not!”

  “Mm-hmmm…” She pauses, then gasps. “But you wanted something to happen, didn’t you?”

  Again, I’m searching for the right words, but nothing comes out.

  She gasps again and bursts into laughter. “Holy fuck! You did want something to happen!”

  “Shut up!” I rub my hot cheeks. “I did not want anything to happen, because I’m with Noah.”

  “Right,” she says, but I can just feel her annoying, knowing smirk thing she does when she knows she’s right. Not that she is at this present time…oh, Lord, please help me.

  At the moment I’m going to respond to her, I hear a loud crash behind me in the house.

  What the heck was that?

  “Grey?” I call out, slowly standing up.

  “What’s happening?” Char asks.

  “I don’t—” I start.

  Another crash, but much bigger.

  “Liv—”

  I drop the phone and take off into the house. My heart is pumping, and I feel my stomach tighten at the possibility that he’s having an emotional breakdown for some reason. It happens a lot when a person with his disorder stay off their medication. But since he’s been off of them for a long time, even before I knew him, I thought he was able to deal with them without throwing furniture around. Guess not…

  “Grey!” I burst into the room.

  He is a complete wreck, and so is the room. One of the dressers is thrown on the floor, splinters and chunks of wood littering the ground. His shirt and hair are ruffled like he’s been yanking at both religiously. I gasp at a hole in one of the light blue walls and blood on one of his balled-up fists. And his face, oh God, his face…flushed beyond comprehension and tears streaming out of bloodshot eyes.

  “Help me,” he whimpers so low, I feel my heart split into a million different pieces.

  Without knowing what has set him off or if there is a sharp splinter in my way, I run over to him and wrap my arms around him, nodding with tears in my own eyes.

  “I’m here.” I kiss his chest and nod. “I’m here.”

  Chapter Ten

  His grandfather died of terminal lung cancer last night. His funeral is in a few days, and he is leaving to go to his family’s birthplace, Venezuela. Tonight. All alone. When I heard that, I felt my insides grow weary. I hate the idea of him attending his grandfather’s funeral all by himself.

  Apparently, they had a deep connection, and when he found out…he lost his mind. He explained that it felt like a part of him was forcibly ripped out of him. With the way that he was crying a storm into the side of my neck and held onto me so tight, so securely like I would melt away if he dared let me go…I feel like I know the feeling.

  The feeling of having something you care for so deeply be snagged right out of your caring hands. I felt it eight months ago. So I know somewhat of what he felt, but not enough where I could tell him that I “understand” or “it’s going to be okay.” Whoever tells him that isn’t in his boots, walking around in his skin.

  We stayed that way for a long time: my arms caged around his large, lean body and his face buried in the crook of my neck. The only other time I witnessed him freak out that way was when his mother popped up in his apartment. I saw pure, raw anger, confusion, fear, and panic swell in his eyes. And at that moment, I felt it. The unsettling, black hole-sized space in the back of my heart open and form around the idea of protecting this poor, confusing tatted boy with eyes of darkness, yet having possessed so much light he didn’t even know about.

  And when I saw those emotions brew behind his eyes again, I felt every single boundary I had put up after he walked out on me eight months ago shatter, and I knew. I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to hold back from doing anything to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks or hugging him or just about anything it took to help the weeping boy that needed a little shedding of light in that dark vast place hidden just behind his heart. He had to see it, no matter what. Even if I got hurt in the process…my well-being has been on the back burner since the first time I saw him, I think.

  The problem is, what about Noah? I’m not saying that I will do anything with Grey. The door on us is closed, locked, and the key has been thrown away. Random, meaningless sex or not. I don’t want to hurt Noah. Feeling so deeply for Grey, though, it isn’t so much in the sexual department as it is in the department where I feel so irrevocably attached to him in ways that could never be truly cut, is basically the same as betraying him. I am not caring for him in the same way as I should. I’m not drowning in searing waves of electricity just from one single touch. And I should be with him, but I just can’t.

  Is there something wrong with me? Am I just not trying hard enough?

  A million and one questions run through my brain, worsening the headache from my hangover I’m still suffering th
rough. I wrap an arm around my grumbling stomach. I don’t know if I’m hungry or extremely nauseous.

  Nonetheless, I step through the front door of the beach house, trying to be as quiet as possible. I am trying not to wake anyone. It’s still morning, and the others, excluding Charlotte, may still be asleep. Plus, I’m afraid if I make any kind of loud noise, my brain will detonate.

  Take that for your pristine porcelain walls, Mother, my subconscious spits bitterly.

  My plan goes to crap when I hear flip-flops smacking on and off the marble staircase. And boy, are there a bunch of them…

  Prepare yourself, prepare yourself! I chant over and over, readying myself for the pounding questions and wailing cries of relief that I’m okay, then the roaring anger I didn’t return or notice anyone’s calls or texts.

  A lifetime of preparing wouldn’t help me.

  First, it was Louise, “¿Dónde estaba en el nombre del Señor, niña? ¡Estaba intentando contactarte toda la noche!” (Where in the name of the Lord were you, little girl? I was trying to reach you all night!)

  Next was Charlotte, “Debería aplastar el cráneo de ese idiota. ¡El martillo, por favor!” (I should really smash that idiot’s skull in. The hammer, please!)

  Then Mason, “Dude, where the hell did you go last night? You had me so freaking worried!” He wrapped me in a tight hug, and I hugged him back even tighter.

  Mateo joins in the hug and says in a muffled voice, “Don’t do that again, okay? There is something called taking your fucking phone off silent, you know?”

  “Babe,” Mason warns.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles, then adds, “Really, I’ll kill Grey when I see him.”

  I want to tell him to lay off considering the news he got this morning, but Julia’s cut in before I could get a word out.

  “Thanks for ruining my party.” She sounds super pissed, and I instantly feel horrible. Everyone is worrying over me when yesterday was her day, not mine.